The Chase
by vjeury
Summary: It all started when she found a clown in her apartment... That and her serious need of a bath...
1. Unwanted Help

**Disclaimer: **Suffice to say that the only thing I own here is the plot. To Togashi Yoshiro and his ability to bring the most beautiful and interesting characters to life, we tip our hats.

**Warning:**Updates will be erratic in nature; do bear with my faults and my inconsistencies.

**THE CHASE**

**1 - Unwanted Help**

* * *

"Do you need help undoing your bra?"

A playfully malicious voice brought her back to reality, her head snapping to attention. Just a few minutes ago, she let her body move on auto pilot, entering and exiting elevator doors without so much as a thought. She operated with only one thing in mind: a bath, a good long soak with nothing but peace and quiet to be exact. She had just finished her last assignment for the week, one that ended up with her target, Sheila Kawashima, deranged singer and diva of the century, exploding in a million pieces a good two feet away from her thus soaking her from head to toe with blood and guts. Good riddance too, she thought. She has wasted enough time listening to her shrill voice for a good two hours as she posed as a journalist for a small newspaper publication. Fortunately for her, Ms. Kawashima liked doing interviews in abandoned buildings and she got her all to herself. Adds more to the drama, she says. She wasn't instructed to kill the woman just slice off the extra toe from the diva's left foot neither did the brief say that she shouldn't kill her either. Then again, she mused, she supposed she really did have to kill her afterwards. After all, it is natural for a person to react violently if someone suddenly decided to severe a part of their body, a diva in particular would make a huge spectacle over it if left alone. Her current employer wouldn't mind as long as she delivered the toe and the other goods tomorrow morning.

Except, she didn't kill the diva. Someone else beat her to it. Which was, though appreciated and did save her time from doing it, wasn't part of the plan. That and it was too damn messy. She scanned her environment and hastily made her retreat. Choosing to hide and watch before coming back to see if she could still find the toe.

She waited for a good three hours and when no one came she went back and searched the place as quickly and as thoroughly as she could.

She certainly wasn't expecting her to explode sure, but at least her left foot remained intact. Picking it up, she sliced off the extra toe without much effort, put it in a zip lock plastic bag and ran away; taking a longer route back to the hotel so she could see if anyone was tailing her.

Why and who made her explode aren't what's important right now. Getting her clean, now _that's_ the top priority. She will deal with the details later.

She was fortunate enough that the place she was staying at the moment is more than accustomed to patrons walking in and out looking like a pig from a slaughter house.

She even had to bite her tongue before a string of profanities could launch itself to the man at the front desk who greeted her and said "Good evening, Alia-san" all while smiling all too knowingly for her liking as he handed out a towel to her when she checked in and asked for her floor's card.

Tired from the last assignment, she was so ready for the promise of a good hot bath that she began stripping the moment she closed the door of her temporary flat, not bothering to switch the light on just yet as she made her way to the bathroom, just one of the many mistakes she would be doing from here on out. Because if she _did_ turn it on, she would have seen the stranger lounging on the couch as if he owned the place.

In fact, if she wasn't being sloppy as of late, she would've heard another heartbeat in the room.

Caught off guard, she immediately threw the nearest object she could grab, and in this case a vase, to the source of the voice. She hadn't even heard the vase crash and had very little time to react when two powerful hands pinned her to the wall, her muscles aching in protest as her back slammed against the concrete.

She mentally cursed herself. She really should've known someone else is here. Her senses must be getting dull from the nonstop jobs she's been doing in the past week.

"That's not a very good way to treat a guest."

In an instant the lights were on and she found herself face to face with a man wearing the ugliest set of clothing she has ever seen.

She could only glare back at the glassy blue eyes that stared at her own, merely inches away from her. The man inched his face closer to hers, he was so no near he could feel his breath on her skin, his lips pressed tightly into a thin line looking as if he was trying so hard not to laugh.

How dare he mock her! She has never felt so violated and humiliated. This is _her_ space, never mind the fact that she's only renting it. _No one_ else is allowed to enter without her permission. And yet a random stranger entered her quarters, and now has her person pinned on the wall with her arms above her head with her chest half-exposed.

As if sensing her train of thought, the man's eyes wandering away from her face and travelling down south.

"Let go or I'll kick you on the balls." She warned, planning on doing more than just that should she get the chance.

The man's grip tightened his hold on her wrists in response.

"You really shouldn't stare at me so hard, love. It makes me want to claw your eyes out" he said in a sickeningly sweet voice that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand.

Alia could hardly stop herself from trying to make out the intruder's features. A painted star on the right cheek and a blue teardrop on the left adorned the man's face, his hair a sickening orange all paired with his outrageous get up made him look absolutely ridiculous. Like a clown. She decided long ago that she disliked clowns, much less care for them. This time however, she was certain that she hated them with a passion. This one, in particular, she hated the most.

"Can't say I didn't warn you."

Having taught to eagerly respond with violence when faced with sick unknown men, she brought her knee up to his groin. Just when she thought he was about to fall down he grabbed her by the leg and sent her falling with him, maneuvering their bodies so he could sit on her.

"Now here's a more comfortable position." the man bursting into a fit of laughter, moving his body so he could sit on her hips instead of her stomach.

"Damn it. What do you want?" Alia protested. His weight making it impossible for her to move; as if something else is pinning her down.

"Well first, we have to get you out of these clothes —"

OH THAT'S IT! THERE WILL BE BLOOD! Incantations swam in her head as she conjured two massive hands from on the floor, throwing the unwanted weight off her. She managed to roll away just in time to avoid the card aimed at her. And then she ran at the opposite end of the room.

A mixture of shock and amusement crept up the man's face telling her that he obviously wasn't expecting what she did just then. They sized each other up, preparing for the impending battle. And as the clock strikes twelve, cards were flying and the roars for justice filled the night.

_Seriously? All she wanted is a good bath! Is that too much to ask?_

* * *

**A/N: **I really wanted to read a Hisoka x OC fan fic hence the story.

I would like to apologize in advance if my description of Hisoka's features aren't accurate, found his basic info on the hunter wiki website.

_On a slightly unrelated note, I too want a bath._

_So yeah, I'll send the second chapter up in a few hours. I promise :)_

_oh, and a review would be nice feel free to drop one if you feel like it:)_

-vjeury

**EDIT - April 29, 2013: So yeah, after a year or so I finally found the courage to re-write this fic and hopefully do Hisoka's character justice. **

**Currently editing chapter 2. **

**much love, vjeury.**


	2. Letters to No One

**Disclaimer: **Suffice to say that the only thing I own here is the plot. To Togashi Yoshiro and his ability to bring the most beautiful and interesting characters to life, we tip our hats.

**Warning:**Updates will be erratic in nature; do bear with my faults and my inconsistencies.

**THE CHASE**

**2 - Letters to No One**

* * *

_Dear Creepy Killers Weekly, what should one do if one finds a deranged clown in her apartment flinging cards at her and is, though not proven, sexually harassing her? Should one (a.) call the police (b) or reward her person with a good jump off the building's top floor for not killing the nut job properly?_

_P.S_

_A quick reply would be most appreciated._

The battle continued in Alia's apartment. A battle she wasn't fully prepared for. Tired from the previous assignment she finished earlier that day all she wanted to do was to take a good long hot bath then sleep but the clown in her room seems to have other plans.

Alia continued to conjure up walls to shield her from the flying cards, feeling wearier as the fight continued. She cannot continue fighting like this. She spared a glance at the nearest window figuring she would still survive and live to tell the tale if she ran away now. Breaking said clown's face can wait and there really is no shame in running away. She made a run for the window her fist almost colliding with its surface when she noticed that everything suddenly became quiet. She lowered her shield but kept her guard up preparing herself from any tricks the clown might have in store for her until she realized she's finally alone in the room, like she should be.

She paused, momentarily questioning her sanity. Maybe, just maybe, the man was just a figment of her imagination, an illusion, a manifestation of just how she badly needed release. _Maybe _her day was just extremely bad that she took all her pent up frustration and anger on the furniture without realizing it managing to injure herself in the process.

Yes, she could settle for that, both her brain and body too tired to search for a logical explanation.

She let out a deep breath, willed her mind to focus, and scanned her surroundings, assessing the damages the battle— no, her short-lived relapse brought. From an outsider's view, she surely needs another place to stay the night. But, no, she definitely did not have that option. She sighed. She has to fix the furniture the clown—damn it, that _she_ broke, not that she couldn't pay for them she just hates it when things get broken unnecessarily and when the place she should be staying in is a complete mess. She was getting more and more irritated as she looked at the wrecked objects around her if the vein on her head was anything to go by. Her OCD kept on urging her to do something about it.

_The sooner I clean this mess up, the sooner I can be dead to the world_she thought.

Mind made up, she walked into the center of the room, closed her eyes and started reciting words so quietly and in a rhythm that resembled a bird song. Multi-colored ribbons of light started to emit from her body, creeping down from her shoulders to her arms and to the floor. As she recites the last of the words she opened her eyes. For a second, a blinding flash of light devoured everything and was gone the next.

It was as if the clown never— no, she corrected herself. It was as if she didn't have a minute of sudden schizophrenia and demolished everything in sight. No conjured hands sprang on the floor. No cracks or broken wood. Traces of war are nowhere to be found.

And then she let herself fall on the floor. Both her mind and body extremely exhausted from using her abilities and the onslaught of jobs her current employer had managed to bury her with. Deciding that taking a bath could wait; she closed her eyes waiting for sleep to come to her. Despite lying in a bloody stinky heap that was her, the silence was just perfect. She closed her eyes slowly, waiting for the sandman to claim her.

But no, she can't be granted that kind of luxury just yet.

Complacency and denial turned out to be her second mistake for the night.

"Impressive light display, really colorful."

It seems that the familiar malicious voice is back breaking her peace, ready to irritate her once again. She stared at imaginary, yes imaginary, man before her, deciding that she could will him to disappear just as easily as he reappeared.

"What do you want this time?" she said resignedly, mentally noting that she needed to see a therapist soon now that she has decided to talk to imaginary bastards. She didn't even bother opening her eyes to know that the clown is grinning. She continued to lie limp on her side determined to not look at the beholder of the voice, hoping that he really is just a figment of her ever-so-active imagination and that he'd disappear soon. To her dissatisfaction, she was instead lifted up from the floor. Tired from everything that has happened, she found herself giving in to what the stranger has to offer.

"Not even a slap on the face for holding you?" the clown said in sad fashion. When she didn't answer back he added "I like what you've done with the place. I can't say the same with how you smell though, you need a proper bath."

Finally someone gets it.

_Wait a minute..._

_If she remembered correctly, make-believe jackasses _do not _have the ability to move, let alone lift a hundred-and-twenty pound woman... right?_

* * *

**A/N**:There, act 2 is up! Told you I was going to update in a couple of hours.

on a slightly unrelated note, I asked my mom what she would do if she's alone in an apartment with a clown trying to kill her. Her answer? Kill him with everything I've got.

Sorry for the short updates, I don't normally post short chapters but I seem to have grown fond of them lately.

Anyhoot, the interesting part's coming up soon (I hope).

-vjeury

**EDIT April 29, 2013: So yeah, after a year or so I finally found the courage to re-write this fic and hopefully do Hisoka's character justice.**

**Currently writing chapters 3 and 4.**

**Finally wrote an acceptable plot for this fic. **

**Did major edits to chapter 1 and tightened some of the loose screws on chapter 2.**

**much love, vjeury.**


	3. More Deaths and Paper Cuts

**Disclaimer:** Suffice to say that the only thing I own here is the plot. To Togashi Yoshiro and his ability to bring the most beautiful and interesting characters to life, we tip our hats.

**Warning: **Updates will be erratic in nature; do bear with my faults and my inconsistencies.

**THE CHASE**

**3 - More Deaths and Paper Cuts**

* * *

It was when she felt herself getting lowered into the warm water that she realized that she could no longer deny that this was all very, very real.

She was, she realized, at the strange man's mercy. He could kill her here now, and she decided that being killed before getting clean is not exactly a good way to go, not that it would matter once she's dead, her body will rot eventually. She'd at least ask him to wait until her bath was over. Still, her week had been particularly stressful; it was time to let someone else make the decisions for her even if it is at the expense of her life.

What was the quote again? She wondered. Ah yes, we all die in the end.

She supposed she could try defending herself but she neither has the strength or the will to win against this maniac, it would be pointless really.

She felt the clown's arms snake away from her body as her butt met the bottom of the tub. She held onto the edge for support as she sat up and looked up at him and found that he was looking at her as well.

Giving her previous theory about how the place got thrashed one last shot, she waved her arms dramatically and bellowed "Evil, be gone!"

And there's that grin again, the man bowed and, as if by magic, was gone.

Well how about that, she mused. Maybe she really was losing her marbles after all. Alia dunked her head in the warm water choosing that she could question her sanity later.

And she lives, she thought wryly.

She gingerly stepped out of the tub for a moment, removing all the articles of clothing she had on along with Sheila Kawashima's severed toe, eww, and deposited them on a basin under the sink. She turned the shower on full, the water hot. She leaned against the tiled wall and watched fogs form on the mirror and mentally noted what she needed to get done in the next few hours.

She has to catch a 3 hour flight to Linborough City at five am and deliver the items she acquired over the past week and collect the other half of her pay. Afterwards she was relatively... free. The thought made her smile. It was high time she went for a vacation. She could go to Jappon and spend a few nights looking for real ninjas and samurais or maybe she could find a jungle in the Republic of Padokia and live there for a month with only the most basic of supplies. Her smile grew wider. That would be fun. For the first time in a long while she actually had something to look forward to that is not even remotely work-related.

Finally feeling clean and fresh she wrapped a towel around her body, opened the bathroom door and gave the room a quick once-over just to make sure she is alone. Satisfied, she headed to the bedroom, basin in hand, and rummaged through her duffel bag for a change of clothes.

Dressed in a baggy shirt and a pair of shorts, Alia looked at the clock on her bedside table. It's a quarter past one; she lied on her stomach and waited for sleep to come.

Five minutes later, she's still conscious; feeling too tired and excited to actually sleep. Well damn.

From her side, she felt a weight press on mattress. It was undoubtedly a person. Before she could even turn to see who it was, though she actually has a pretty good idea, two strong and very male hands pushed her back down.

"Noooooo..." she whined as she buried her face to the pillow "not you again."

The clown chuckled softly, his hands moving under her top and settling for a spot under her shoulder blades making her shiver at the contact.

This is bad, a myriad of brutal murder scenarios started to play in her head. For one, he can break her spine or he could twist her neck and kill her in an instant, if he has a knife he could stab her under her ribs and pierce her lungs just to name a few. She shut her eyes tight and waited for the inevitable.

Except he didn't do any of those things, instead he started with one of his hands massaging her back while the other tucked the hem of her shirt to her collar full exposing her back to him, save for the bra strap. It felt so good and unexpected that she was hardly able to suppress a moan. The touch was gentle at first, the man's hands gliding smoothly over her bare skin. Her fingers dug deeper into the pillow as she felt his thumbs kneading the knots on her back easing her tensed muscles.

She found herself torn between protesting and letting him continue his wonderful ministrations. She punched a hole through her headboard in favoring of gasping out loud when the man applied just the right amount of pressure on a particularly sore spot under her ribs. The clown giggled obviously enjoying the way she reacted.

"What are you exactly?" she asked slowly, making sure that every syllable came out right in fear of actually moaning.

"Room service" he stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

"Right" she replied packing as much sarcasm into that one word as she could.

He continued to massage her in silence. Eventually, Alia felt her eyelids grow heavier by the minute.

She noticed the one of the man's hand's leave her back thinking he was about to stop when something glide several times through her epidermis. It was only when a breeze came in through the window that she felt several spots on her back sting a little followed by the sensation of blood seeping out of the surface of her skin.

She propped herself up using her elbows, looked at the man over her shoulder and cocked an eyebrow at him. His eyes, she noticed, were glazed. He seemed extremely fixated looking at her back. His face wore a self-satisfied smile.

So he was one of _those _men, she thought. She had seen the same look in varying degrees mixed with different emotions countless of times in her brief time as a voyeur a couple of years ago. Some are contented with lacerating their partners, some get off when the receiver screams.

Finally sensing her eyes on him, he looked back at her and she raised her brow higher in response.

"A little payment for the massage" he said, his eyes returning to the expanse of her back. And as if knowing she'd ask, he threw a card which imbedded itself on the already damaged headboard without looking.

"Death by a thousand paper cuts then?" she asked, joking half-heartedly.

"No, not death" he shrugged and then smiled "At least... not yet."

With a slender finger, the man traced the wounds he inflicted, slowly smearing the blood on her back, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

"I will keep them shallow" he whispered over and over, more to himself than her as if he was trying to remind himself.

_...time to let someone else make the decisions for her even if it is at the expense of her life..._

Right, she thought tiredly, and with that she slept.

* * *

Caspar Endreyni the IV woke up with beads of cold sweat on his forehead. He was a severely obese recluse who can't walk three steps without panting, and as befit as someone like that, he had done most of his business dealings at his mansion and was drawn to a hobby of collecting body parts that quickly escalated to an unhealthy obsession with body fluids, organs and several parts of the human anatomy from both the dead and the living. He has made a good number of enemies over the years and has been receiving more and more death threats the past few weeks that he has become overly paranoid.

He looked uneasily around his quarters feeling something was amiss. His eyes wandered over to the open windows that led to the balcony overlooking the forest surrounding his safe house.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down and let the good evening air passing through the open windows lull him to sleep.

Open.

His eyes went wide when realization dawned on him. He barely had time to press the alarm button on his chest when a massive hand easily covered his entire head and ripped it away from his neck.

From a far, a figure sitting on a tree branch smiled and faded into the darkness.

* * *

**A/N: Author's notes from chapter 4 onwards shall be kept short I swear. **

**I do apologize for updating this fic a solid year after its release. **

**The main reason is that I am not quite comfortable in writing yet. Little can be said about my grammar and I am unfortunately very redundant. With a very limited vocabulary and poor writing skills I can do very little. I need to rectify some things and I thought this fic should be one of them. **

**Ah yes, for those of you who are unfortunate enough to read this fic before April 27 2013, apologies are also in order. It was, for the lack of a better word, terrible. I still cringe and my left eye still twitches whenever I read them. The previous chapters are revised now and are, hopefully, better than its predecessors. You might wanna take a gander at them because this chapter might confuse you. **

**To everyone else, please don't read my other works. Please, they are in dire need of revising. If you do however decide to read them, please sit in front of a table and bang your head fifty times on its surface after reading those horrible pieces. I jest, but yeah, please don't read them. **

******Now to answer a few questions. No, the character is not based on me. She is a by-product of all the mundane questions I ask my mom and the answers she gives, and the random waves of inspiration on nights where I scare myself shitless and cannot bring myself to sleep. If she was indeed based on me, she would've been brutally murdered after the first two paragraphs and the story would have to end there. I don't like Mary Sues, I don't want any of them in my story. **

**Criticisms, no matter how harsh, are encouraged. Feel free to point out my mistakes. **

**-vjeury**


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